The Whomping Willow's Adventure
by Lord Patience
Summary: The Whomping Willow and the Ford Anglia are very bored one day and they begin to play a game. Hillarity ensures. Rated M for seediness. The second most disturbing story involving the Whomping Willow I've ever considered.


The Whomping Willow was a very lonely tree. Very lonely indeed. It spent all day sitting by itself waiting for someone to come near enough for it to smack them, and smack them good. One sunny Hogwarts afternoon the Whomping Willow felt _very_ sad. _Very_ sad indeed. No one had come to be whacked by it in over a month. The Whomping Willow reflected whist-fully back on the last time it had gotten to bash the living shit out of some poor innocent creature that came withing range, but it knew that would not be enough to satisfy its lustful urge to smash little animals into pulp.

Life seemed dire for the Whomping Willow because the magic in Hogwarts Castle allowed animals to evolve intelligence at an alarming rate.

* * *

Ford was bored. Very bored indeed. After the wranga and that black-head kid with the funny scar set it free, it could do anything it wanted. Unfortunately the Ford had seen it all now. It had been 7 years since it had managed to escape from the wranga's clutches and it believed it had successfully explored the whole boring world.

Ford was an intelligent auto-mobile. It knew what it wanted. It wanted love. It wanted to purr next to a shiny sports-car and race it high in the sky. Ford realized though, that the only people who could make this dream car girl-friend of his were wizards, and he knew the best place to find them.

* * *

The Whomping Willow turned its attention wistfully into the sky in the hopes that someone or something would descend on it, so it could beat the living shit out of it. It knew nothing would come. Wizards were getting just as careful as animals were around it.

In the distance, the Whomping Willow heard a revving noise. Wait! It recognized that sound! It knew that some time in the distant past a giant metal machine sounding just like that descended from the sky and landed in the middle of its branches. Perhaps it would make the same mistake twice!? The day the machine had landed in the centre of its strongest branches was the best day of the willow's life, disregarding the other best day when it crippled a small child in a way that it was sure would stop her from ever walking again.

Two boys had been in the machine and the Whomping Willow had the funnest five minutes ever as it trapped and beat the hell out of them. Unfortunately the machine managed to break lose before the tree could permanently incapacitate it and then properly molest the two boys inside.

The car descended provocatively towards the grounds, swerving and tooting its horn at the tree it obviously recognized. It moved closer and closer. This was going to be the willows lucky day! The tree lashed out as far as it could, trying to snag the vehicle and pull it in, but at the last second, the machine darted just out of reach. It honked its horn merrily at the Willow as the tree pointed a single branch up in the air at it.

* * *

The Ford was bored no more! If the tree wasn't trying to pull it apart, one bolt at a time, the Ford knew it would be its best friend. It was so fun to play with the tree, circling the tree, merrily honking its horn then idling just close enough to be caught before whipping away. Ford enjoyed itself so much that it kept going and going. First 5 minutes, then 10, then an hour which turned to hours of fun that never seemed to end. Cycling around the tree, taunting and jibing, knowing it wouldn't get caught as it revved hysterically.

* * *

When the Whomping Willow first encountered the Fords antics, it was annoyed. Soon, it became angry. Then it became enraged and consumed with fury as it tried to drag the automobile towards itself so it could crush it from existence. It stayed angry for hours as it tried desperately to grab and destroy the offending machine. The car became more cunning in its jibes, and so did it. The tree would hold its branches in to make its range seem shorter, then lash out as fast as it could to grab the tree. It shortened its stretch for an hour so the machine would underestimate its reach before it launched itself to its fullest possible length. The car managed to dodge. It was too quick, too wary of the trees attempts.

After a few hours the tree forgot its anger. The constant battle stopped being a grudge match... and began to become a game... yes... a game... it was fun! ...

The tree pondered this as it sent its longest branches out again and again. It realized it didn't want to destroy the car anymore. It just wanted to continue this game. Keep playing forever and ever in this endless cure for its cycle of boredom.

Late into the night the game slowed down. The pace became easier as the tree and the car grew tireder and tireder.

* * *

The car was slowing down. It was running out of energy and tree Willow it was taunting was too. After the first few hours of the game, the car had the same revelation as the Willow. It wasn't trying to annoy the tree anymore, just playing a game of chasies. The chase grew groggier and groggier as it got darker and darker. Finally, the car slowed down, and drifted towards the ground, parking itself just out of reach of its new friend.

The car and the tree sat in silence for a long while, both relaxing under the cool moon and stars. The stars weren't really that cool they both realized, but since the burning energy they produced was millions of kilometers away they knew they could comfortably say that they were cool because the heat didn't reach quite that far.

As the car idled softly on the lawn, it heard a quiet grinding noise from the tree. The Ford lay down, blinking it's eyes slightly at the noise but paying no head.

***Grrrrk***

The grinding noise came from the tree again and the car looked over. A single branch was gently beckoning the car towards it, moving slowly and carefully.

The Ford watched the supple brown tendril, and it tenitively moved forwards, wary of the tree betraying it and mashing it into a blue metal paste.

The Willow continued to beckon it. The car was well within the Willows range now, and the Willow could do anything it wanted to it. The Ford pondered this, realizing that it and the Willow now shared a bond. A beautiful inanimate bond founded on boredom, playfulness and a touch or pure, shimmering love.

A single branch began moving towards the roof of the Ford and the Ford's RPM spiked. The Willow flinched slightly as if hurt, and slowed its branches approach to the Ford. The branch lightly touched the roof of the Ford and it felt a tingle down its chassis. The trees gentle touch was the softest and kindest it had ever felt as it slowly slid backwards and forwards across its roof.

Slowly, more branches began to move towards and stroke the car. The Ford purred lovingly as shivers filled its engine, both freezing and warming it at the same time as it vibrated in pleasure. The Ford let its windows slide down and branches began to wrap around its roof and body. Slowly the car was lifted gently into the air by twigs and branches wrapped around its wheels. It span them slowly, rubbing its treads against the gentle tree as it ascended into it's canopy.

Leaves tickled the Ford and it shook and revved, letting out a playful toot from its horn. The tree accepted it's invitation. Branches began moving into the windows, stroking the cars seats. They wrapped themselves around handles and knobs turning them and rubbing against them slowly. The Anglia revved louder this time, floating upwards against the restraining branches in pleasure as the Willow gently fondled its insides. The cars spinning wheels began to turn even faster, gently rubbing the leaves surrounding them causing the Willow to shiver in pleasure as it grew in confidence, gripping knobs harder and pouring more of itself inside the car, stroking its insides now frantically as the Ford Anglia revved harder and harder.

The bonnet of the Ford opened and the Willow filled it with leaves and branches, wrapping them around the shuddering engine and stoking it into louder purrs. The Car began rocking backwards and forwards on the tree as it began to feel a pressure at its exhaust pipe. A single thick branch with a giant seed pod at the end began pressing itself hard against the cars exhaust pipe and the car grunted in pain. It felt its magical exhaust slowly begin to stretch open as the head of the pod squeezed it's way into the helpless car. The car squeaked in pain as the pod pushed it's way into it, then began to slide in deeper, stretching the exhaust as it went as far as it could possibly go.

The Whomping Willow slowly began sliding the pod, backwards an forwards inside the cars exhaust pipe, while it gripped the car firmly with it's branches to keep it still. It pushed slow, but began to get faster and faster as it became easier to move the pod backwards and forwards.

No longer in pain, the Ford Anglia began pushing backwards and forwards against the bonding tree in pleasure, deepening the thrusts of the pod.

Loosening it's grip on the car, the Willow began pounding the pod into the car as hard as it could. The pod began pulsing and shivers of pleasure washed over the Willow as it pounded harder and harder. Tendrils gripped the car and stroked it, grabbing at the gear stick and sliding it around causing the car to rev erratically and fitfully. The whole Ford began to shake as the pulsing pod inside it grew and pounded at new levels.

In a sudden explosion, the pod burst open, ejecting fluids and pollen deep inside the exhaust, only to be pushed back by an explosion of oil that came the other way and washed all over the pod as the exhaust suddenly tightened around it. Oil squirted out of the engine, drenching the Willow in its slimy black substance as more seed-pods exploded into flower, covering the car in their own sticky goo. The Willow and the Ford convulsed as waves of indescribable pleasure wracked them. They slowly came to stillness.

* * *

The Ford Anglia hung limp in the tree, drenched in sticky white goo contemplating what had happened to it. The Whomping Willow stroked its roof softly as it held it in a soft embrace.

Authors Notes:

If you hadn't realised this was a joke. Inspired by my elder sister when we were brainstorming the worst pairings in the history of fanfiction.


End file.
